Coppice
by LenkaJeneva
Summary: Harry is – err… – a bit more obsessed with Quidditch… Blame Oliver. He's the one that decided that he wanted a little brother – and Mrs. Wood was never able to say no to the five-year-old… Damn. We're screwed aren't we?
1. Chapter 1

**Harry is – err… – a bit more obsessed with Quidditch… Blame Oliver. He's the one that decided that he wanted a little brother – and Mrs. Wood was never able to say no to the five-year-old… Damn. We're screwed aren't we?**

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**Please, read and review!**

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**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter

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"Potter, Harry."

The voice rang out in the otherwise silent hall. The silence, however, was short lived, as these bursts of quiet so often are. People began whispering, tilting their heads and swiveling in their seats in order to catch a glimpse of the reclusive boy-who-lived.

Harry felt a surge of unease.

His footsteps seemed to echo in the hall, whispers drowning out whispers, and the sorting hat seemed a million eons away… and he was hungry. That was for sure.

But as he settled down, europhia that he had long ago felt kicked in. This was _real_.

"Now, where to put you?" The old voice was croaky (Harry couldn't blame the hat for probably barely talking during the year then having to sing a song to an entire school, scream out each house, and talk mentally to each student before being put right back onto the shelf). "Plenty of courage I see… Not a bad mind either… and loyal to a fault…"

_Just put me in Gryffindor already,_ Harry stated subconsciously. He did exactly as he was told to do. _Got to go there, or Ollie will kill me._

"Plenty of secrets for one so young…"

_Shut your pie hole please, and get on with my sorting._

A small silence descended between the boy and the hat. "Did– did you just _insult_ a century old hat!"

Harry couldn't believe that the hat would sound so…. Incredulous. Oh! Big word! _Yes,_ he told the hat, mentally of course, _that's a Gryffindor thing to do, isn't it?_

"I– in all my years–"

_Never had anyone this impudent?_ He asked brightly, straightening up. _Really? What about Kennilworthy Whisp? He's a quidditch fanatic! Probably all he thinks about! I'd think that he'd be horrible to have a conversation with– well, maybe not for me, but I don't think that Quidditch is your cup of tea, is it? What was he like when–?_

"GRYFFINDOR! … you impudent child…"

"Thanks," he said with a grin, fully aware that he was receiving the loudest cheer yet. He heard the hat grumbling about horrible children, and finding a new job, and wasn't in the job description, as he made his way to the end of the table where all the first years seemed to be congregating.

He nodded to the Weasley twins (who just so happened to be screaming "We've got Potter! We've got Potter!" at the top of their lungs). They both grinned back at him rather cheekily.

"Heyya," he said as he slipped into his seat, he offered his hand to the boy beside him, "Harry Potter, pleased to me't cha."

"Seamus Finnegan," he said with a laugh, "nice display up there."

He gestured up at the stand, and Harry was pleased to see the sorting hat giving him an evil glare before continuing on with the sorting.

"Brilliant, isn't it?" He swung his eyes to the bushy-haired girl in front of him. "I think that I've already made an enemy. First day too. Must be a record."

Hermione Granger? sniffed rather awfully at him. "Weren't you the one who decided it would be a good idea to punch that boy in the face on the train?" She eyed him critically, as if she wasn't quite sure what to make of him.

"Well…" he gave her an amused grin. "Yeah, but I'm sure you'll see why soon enough. A right prat he is, just wanted to make my stance known before he got any ideas."

"You're the one who punched Draco Malfoy?" A blond haired girl snapped her compact mirror shut as she glanced up at him with bright eyes. "If you hadn't been my hero already, you certainly would be now, just sayin'."

"Thanks," he said lightly, a small smile gracing his features, he glanced up, the talk settling down once more as Dean Thomas joined their small group at the table. Harry managed to catch a glimpse of Oliver Wood talking excitedly to Alicia Spinnet. He suppressed a snort with difficulty.

He dimly listened to the announcements "Quidditch tryouts… Third floor corridor… Forbidden Forrest…"

"Food," he moaned as plates materialized before them, "thank you Merlin!"

"Is it true that you grew up with muggles?" A red haired boy asked him around his pork chop, several people turned to hear the answer.

Harry felt a surge of annoyance. "Is it true your hair is red?"

"Well," the boy (Ron was it?) said rather cheekily, "It was blue the other day."

"Okay, you got me."

"Got what?" Dean Thomas asked, "Right or wrong?"

"You pick."

"You're not going to answer are you?" Ron said, a bit irritably.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I did live with my Aunt and Uncle," he said truthfully. "Awful people, how bout you?"

"All my families' wizards. Sixth one out of my siblings to go to Hogwarts. Fred and George are up there, same with Percy."

"I'm half and half," Seamus said, his Irish tilt rather prominent, "me dad's a muggle, didn' know me mam was a witch till they married. Bit o' a nasty shock fer 'im."

Harry tuned them out, casually eating the sprouts (disgusting, how'd they get onto his plate?) as he surveyed the room (after he spat out the greens, really? This was a _feast_; he couldn't be healthy at a _feast_…). Marcus Flint was, apparently, the Slytherin Captain. He was easy enough to find, just follow the directions – look for the part troll in the green.

Fun.

Harry had to swear, that next time he saw Ollie, he was going to kill 'im for giving him this job. Sure… he said that he wanted to do _something_… just not scout other teams and spy on them. And what job does he get? Scouting other teams and spying on them.

He really had to hate life sometimes.

"So, no brooms for first years," he said rather upsettingly (of course, if he had a broom, he could be seeker for the house team, and wouldn't _have_ to scout the other teams out – they could always get some other first year to do their dirty work for them). Harry was thinking of revolting. Maybe a good ol' fashioned petition would get Dumbledore's attention… if he could finish a petition within the year. Probably not.

Eh. It was worth a thought.

"You like flying then?" Seamus asked, "Shame that we can't get on the house teams."

Another believer! Maybe that petition would work after all…. Eh, who was he kidding? Too much work for no gain. "I know, there hasn't been a first year player in over a century!"

"Which isn't much," Ron put in, "Quidditch only started 'bout a century ago. Maybe a little more. No set date."

"I should protest."

"You do that."

"–lead the first years to their dorms."

Harry glanced up in surprise. The prefects were getting ready for the first years, he could see another red head (probably Percy Weasley, he looked eerily like Ron) begin leading them back to the common rooms. Not that Harry could complain, after spending the train ride with the Weasley twins, Lee Jordan (and his spider), Oliver, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie (it was times like that, that he was glad he was small, way too many people in one compartment, there had to be a weight limit), but Harry could use some sleep.

Even if he would be rather rudely awaken at four in the morning.

Actually, _especially_ if he was rather rudely awaken at four in the morning.

You really had to hate the Quidditch nuts sometimes.


	2. Chapter 2

**I have successfully finished Chapter 2! Enjoy, read, review, flame, whatever floats your boat (cliche, I know, don't attack me). Read and Review - Please and Thank You!**

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**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter

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He pulled irritably at the black sweater that he had on.

It was a warm day, a very warm day for early September, and here he was, spending it decked out in a black hat, a black sweater, black pants, and black sneakers – all in all Harry felt that this outfit was oddly appropriate, if he was planning on robbing a bank.

Oh, and it was lunchtime. He could have been sitting inside on this beautiful day, decked out in his nice, cool, Hogwarts uniform eating a nice sandwich… instead of spying on the Slytherin Quidditch team in the shadows of the Hufflepuff's stands.

Yes, he really had to hate Quidditch nuts sometimes.

A quill was poised in the air next to him, scribbling his words hastily as it moved across the parchment (a nifty little spell that Katie Bell had shown him the day before) and a Polaroid camera sitting in his lap (the flash _off_ thank you very much, he wasn't an idiot, no matter how single minded he may be).

And he had to sit there, watching the green blur's fly (instead of being able to fly _himself_ – if he died of boredom he was _so_ haunting Oliver).

He took another picture of the Slytherin seeker.

This year, Gryffindor seemed to have a pretty well lined up team… only, they were missing a seeker. And Oliver (the crazy, insane, annoying, obsessed) person that he is, refused to give the position to any player that he deemed unworthy… leaving a considerable lack of a seeker.

Gryffindor was going to be screwed if they didn't find one, and fast.

Harry stopped his mutterings about the Slytherin tactics (they were just doing the same thing over and over and over – probably drills, nothing interesting), allowing the quill to float ominously beside him, the scratching noise as it sped across the parchment stopped.

He boredly picked at a scab on his arm.

He was attempting to stop the bleeding once he successfully picked at the scab enough (although he was still trying to figure out just how he had gotten it – the damned thing appeared out of no where one day), when the Weasley twins plopped down beside him, all decked out in black.

"Here," Fred said as George shoved a napkin filled with fish 'n chips at him, he took it delicately, moaning silently as he began to eat. He dimly noticed Fred take out a pair of Oliver's omnioculars.

"We figured that you might want some help," George said, stealing one of his chips.

"Well, that," Fred continued, tinkering with the gadget in his hands to record everything, "and we were bored as hell."

"Didn't want to listen to Oliver raving that he didn't have a seeker yet?" Harry asked knowingly. Oliver could get incredibly stir-crazy when nothing was going the way it should be.

The twins shared a conspirical grin. "Well, that–"

"–and the fact that we wanted to record this."

Suddenly, both twins raced out of the shadows, stumbling slightly as they moved to the front of the stands. Harry followed them, not wanting to miss out on whatever they were planning. He knew that they must of stood out against the sold yellow around them, recording each and every one of their actions…

Sure enough, one of the Slytherin chasers noticed them, shouting and pointing them out to their housemates.

… And an explosion from the bludger heading toward said chaser distracted the team enough from the three intruders in the Hufflepuff stands.

Harry merely shoved the napkin in his pocket as he finished off the rest of his lunch before following the howling Weasley twins off the stands, the quill and parchment dutifully shoved in his pockets and the camera jiggling around his neck.

"This way Harry," Fred? George? called, rounding the past the doors to the Entrance Hall and back toward the greenhouses. "There are several ways to get back inside the castle–"

"–if you know where to go, some are rarely ever used–"

"–like this one." George (Harry decided to call him for the moment), finished, ducking inside the small door. Harry assumed the House Elves used it.

"What did you _do_?" Harry asked (once they were safely inside the little house elf hidey-hole). Fred was poking at the wall (bored, Harry assumed… until the wall opened up).

Fred stood proudly as they entered the Entrance Hall. "Welcome, young Harry–"

"–from that room beside the Entrance Hall!"

The black-haired kid stared at the two of them for a moment. "No, seriously," he dead-panned, "what did you two do…? And I'm not going to get into trouble for it right…? Oh my god! You poisoned me with that food that you gave to me didn't you? Didn't you!" At least he could die happy. And on a full stomach… unless he barfed… oh no….

George waved him off carelessly, "Nah, just blew up the bludger."

"Cause that makes a lot of sense."

"Course it does," Fred answered him promptly, "as long as it doesn't hurt our team Oliver doesn't care what we do." Noting the emphasis on the 'our', Harry scowled at him. Fred merely gave him a knowing grin before looping arms with his brother and practically skipping down to the kitchens.

He patted down his pockets, making sure that he didn't lose his parchment, before heading up the stairs.

The one good thing about the twins waking him up at odd hours of the night ("We need a prodigy! You're Oliver's little brother! You're practically _family_!") was that Harry could now wonder around the castle without getting lost… for the most part.

Peeves was annoying.

Might as well just get the parchment and camera to Oliver as soon as possible before making a break for it to avoid the inevitable tirade that would soon start…


	3. Chapter 3

**So, this chapter is fairly short (although it was annoying as hell to get up since my brother came in, asked for the computer, and then closed my tabs while I was in the middle of putting this chapter up... ugh). And I will be having (most likely) a flashback. I'm guessing (as it stands now) in another chapter or two. Depends on where I want to go with this.**

**So, I'll try to get another chapter up soon, but for now, you can watch a mini-Oliver-Quidditch-obsession.**

**And (even though I _really_ feel that most - if not all - of our HP fanfiction readers know who owns the copy write of Harry Potter) my disclaimer is below.**

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**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter

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"Their seeker is _good_!"

Harry backed up a few paces, inching his way slowly toward the door as Oliver went over the prints that he'd forced Harry to help antagonize over, making sure that each and every photo was crystal clear and perfect.

He'd spent the last hour reviewing the notes that Harry took and studying each and every picture.

Before he managed to corner the Boy-Who-Lived in his own dormitory. It was a shame really, he couldn't even feel safe in his own bed. He couldn't calmly do any homework in his own room with his own dorm mates. He should've just went with his first bet and joined Hufflepuff.

The floor creaked beneath his foot.

He paused, holding his breath as if he'd just committed treason and wasn't able to break the heavy silence.

Oliver turned around.

The raven-haired boy's eyes widened as the brunette pulled out his wand and shot a spell off in his general direction. He ducked, rolled onto his back, and watched the spell soar into the wooden door beside Seamus' bed.

Harry turned toward his brother. "Ollie?" He'd later refuse that his voice hitched.

"I _can't_ believe that we _forgot_ that!" Oliver suddenly opened the door, the usual creak that went along with that action suspiciously absent, and peaked out. "_Anyone_ could've listened in to our conversation – people are _gossipers_!"

Now, anyone else would've thought that Oliver was insane, going a bit overboard, off his rocker, etc… but this was rather tame for the Gryffindor Keeper.

Harry took this all in stride as he stood up, dusting himself off as if he'd not just ducked and covered, and walked back to his bed to peer at the photo of Higgs flying around the Quidditch pitch. He was fairly good, but not _that_ good. Then again, considering Gryffindor's lack of a Seeker, anything would be good.

Ignoring Oliver ("How could you _forget_ that!") with practiced ease ("After everything I taught you!") he poked the picture watching as the seeker fly away from the offending finger and out of the picture.

"Don't play around Harry!"

"_Gak_!" Did he _have_ to sneak up on him while he was ignoring him every time? "I'm _sorry_!" Harry managed to cry out as he attempting to hide the incriminating smudge.

Oliver sent him an evil glare before sitting down onto his bed. "Mum wants to know what you want for Christmas," he told him instead, gathering the parchment and pictures, his eyes lingering on the smudged picture of the seeker. He sent Harry a dark look.

Harry (once again) ignored him, plopping down onto the edge of Seamus' bed. "Why doesn't she just ask me then, besides, Christmas isn't for like, another 3 months."

"Meh," Oliver shrugged, "You know Mum, always likes to get everything early…" That and Harry still believed in Santa. She didn't have the heart to take the belief away, and if she had any choice in the matter, Harry would go on approaching his thirty's still thinking that Father Christmas was coming to give him a visit.

Of course, Oliver just thought that it was a load of dung.

"Tell her to convince Dumbledore that first years have brooms," he said, sulking slightly as he leaned back on his housemate's bed, "then, even Santa wouldn't have to get me anything. I'd be happy enough…" He trailed off for a few minutes before grinning, "Although a broom would be nice."

"A _Nimbus 2000_ I'd say," Oliver answered dreamily, still fairly upset that his mother refused to buy him one. "Then you could take my old broom and I'd take yours."

Harry, scowling viciously, reached back and grabbed one of Seamus' pillows, lobbing it at his brother in frustration, "In your dreams."

Ollie sighed (rather dreamily), "I own the _Nimbus_ in my dreams…"

Staring at him bewilderedly, Harry blinked, "You've finally gone insane…"

"Your dorm-mates are banging on the door," the brunette said, shaking out of his day-dream and gathering up the various articles of notes and pictures. "Don't tell 'em 'bout our conversation. Top secret."

Humming _Secret Agent Man_, Harry nodded, "The one 'bout Santa right?"

Pausing, Oliver bit his lip and looked up, "You're a lost cause," he told the raven-haired first year slowly, as if talking to a (particularly dumb) two year old (it sounded oddly reminecent to the tone that the teachers take when attempting to get Crabbe and Goyle to understand a lesson), "and don't tell them anything about the Gryffindor Quidditch team that they don't already know."

"Aye, aye captain," he mock-saluted him, falling back onto Seamus' bed as he darted out the door; Harry grinned when Dean and Seamus stumbled into his brother before being roughly shoved aside as he ran past them up to his dorm. "Hey mates," he said, way too cheerfully, "want to know what Wood and I were talkin' 'bout?"

He heard a loud cry of _"don't you dare"_ echo down the stairs as he burst out laughing.


End file.
